Calamity!
by OzZ Cometh
Summary: When an intergalactic altercation forces a former zealot to perform an emergency landing near the Masaki household, his Space Pirate problems tag along.
1. My cruiser's better! Alteranate name

"Calamity!" A mindless action fic by OzZ Cometh ("The Raven", for those of you reading on TMFFA)

Disclaimer-  
"Tenchi Muyo" characters were created by Hiroki Hayashi and Masaki Kajishima, and are the property of AIC and Geneon Entertainment.  
A wide array of the weapons that will be mentioned in this fic are stemmed from the game Phantasy Star Online. They are created by, and are the property of, the Sega Sonic team.  
The Space Marine army is found in WarHammer 42K, and is the property of Games Workshop. I make no claims to any of these things, much less am I profiting from them. That being said, please don't sue me. 

Author's notes (Not pertinent, so skip if you wish  
Though this fanfiction could technically be considered a cross-over, I am making quite possibly the MILDEST references to secondary works, vexing me to label it as such, thus I won't. Dub it what you will, but it is to remain 'Regular'. If you find yourself with a question concerning 'how' they were tied together, it will do you better to bear in mind that my intention was to author a tastefully written 'Action' fanfiction--that was about it.

For the meager amount of artillery or vehicles that I create myself, I have given nicknames, such as 'Wasp' and 'Swarm'. If you do not believe it is a fitting name, or, God forbid, it turned out to be the alias of an 'actual' weapon or vehicle, I offer my sincere apologies in advance. This fanfiction takes place shortly following the Tenchi Universe series, I'm afraid that's all I can tell you concerning the continuity.

This fic was inspired (and slightly educated) by admiraltigerclaw's "Flight of the Hastings" and Thomas Doscher's "Destiny's balance".

Fic start  
Chapter one- "Of missile-launchers, laser cannons and Australian accents."

-The milky way Galaxy, a short distance out of the planet Earth's atmosphere-

"What lies before us and what lies behind us is little compared to what lies within us"  
...The inspirational phrase was of little consolation to the captain of the S.S Retribution as his eyes scanned over the multiple targets upon a holo-screen. They were pirates, alright, a standard militaristic or GP fleet would never have been so inordinate in their arrangement, and judging from the caution purple hue, the small horde was property of the Banshees; a well-equipped galactic vendetta.

This was not to say that Calamity, captain of the much esteemed Retribution, was afraid of this sizeable opposition. A former zealot of the vast Space Marine army turned rouge pirate-hunter, his training, genetic enhancement and deceptive, viciously armed space-cruiser had all conspired to grant him the title of a living legend over several hurdles of galaxies.

...But even with that taken into effect, his situation looked edgy. Running a gloved hand through his crop of spiked, jet-black hair, Calamity breathed deeply and counted the score. The first target, a large, blocky vessel. Heavily armored, but slow as molasses, and possessing no defensive structure, save for a frontal-mounted turret. Clearly, it hauled cargo.

Acting as an escort were five smaller medium class cruisers, armed with standard laser cannons that were mounted at the port and starboard, and a missile-launcher on the belly. Every vessel's shield, for the time being, was down.

As luck would have it, the Retribution's long-range sensors had detected the small fleet nearing her location nearly a half-hour prior, giving the medium-sized vessel ample time to fully cloak itself, thus Calamity's spying was completely oblivious to his subjects...for now.  
The ex-marine knew as well as anyone else that his ship could go on for only so long before being picked up on by rival detecting equipment. Given this, he could either hyper-jump to safety, without ever being noticed by the horde of Banshee cruisers, or use what little precious time was left to perform one Hell of a surprise-attack on the escort ships, and hope that the Retribution would be capable of carrying the rest of the assault.

Common logic would have leaned toward the first option, however Calamity's curiosity of the latter swayed him in it's direction. While maximizing his view of the carrier, the rogue muttered under his breath in a heavy Australian accent, "So, 'Mister Hauler', just what is it that yer' haulin'?" A grin spread across his bronze face as the lock-on initiated to the nearest escort cruiser. It's broadside was completely open. One attack from even his weakest weapons system would tear it up. 

The sleek, lavender escort was quite abruptly railed toward port when a volley of missiles collided into it's starboard side, exploding on contact. As a scattered assortment of debris spread out across the timeless void of space, Calamity activated a Comms tapping system and was just as quickly greeted by a symphony of flabbergasted shouts and frantic, uncoordinated tumbling. Among it all someone, easily assumed to be the captain, shouted, "Power the engines up! Raise the shields and give me a status report! What the Hell just happened to us?!?" It was shortly thereafter followed by a reply, "We've been SWARM'ed by an unknown middle-class vessel, about three hundred kilometers from our location. Both starboard mounts are gone, and the entire side is on critical"  
"What can we do"  
"I'm powering engines up and trying to run a scan across that ship. We gotta radio the others and tell them to cover us!"

The assaulted fleet did not allow their shock at this sudden front to slow them down. Seconds after an attack became official, shields on every vessel were engaged and the victimized cruiser, having lost both starboard cannons, begun to pitch around the fleet, not only to gain cover from it's peers, but to ready it's only remaining defenses for a counter attack. The next two escorts in close proximity to the Retribution responded to her assault by releasing a hail of crimson red lasers toward port, but their target was more evasive than expected. Just as the first beam neared the vessel, it performed a near 180 degree yaw and swung right, sustaining only minor damage to the shields. In the same fluid motion that this gambit was performed, the ship's nose dipped, bringing the rest of the frame to drop underneath the opposing fleet.

Calamity grinned at noting that they were slow to react. This was the perfect situation to utilize one of his new toys. With the press of a button, a large, reflective cannon sprouted from underneath a cover on top of the cruiser. Specifically, it was a class four particle beam, but it was better known as a 'Wasp'. Nearly half the size of it's commandeering ship and with it's nickname decaling the behemoth barrel, intimidation of this new weapon alone could have taken a small fleet of interceptors down.  
As this new, massive laser cannon powered up, Calamity engaged the lock-on to his first 'victim' and mused, "Sorry, mate, but I always finish what I start."

Just as the crew onboard the damaged pirate vessel were beginning to register that their bogie was indeed underneath them, a large, bright blue beam smashed into the belly, jolting the entire ship about. One blast completely ravaged the shields; it's follow-up impaled the midsection, leaving such a large gap that it was nearly blown in half. The ship was left to hang there for roughly a minute, before the three attacks that burdened it took their toll. What little was left that connected the two halves of the ship in wake of the laser barrage snapped, and they both seemed to collapse into each other, shortly thereafter exploding.

Calamity wasted no time to celebrate. Just as promptly as what little remained of the vessel was considered safe to come near, the Retribution gained leverage and dove through the debris. His plans of using the pirate carrier's size as an advantage quickly died away when an automatic holo-screen materialized on the console, displaying his ship's six, and two escorts hot on it. The rouge arched an amused eyebrow. "...And what the bloody 'ell are you doin'?"

It almost seemed as though the pirates had caught on to the Retribution's one real weakness--no rear defense. A turret on the ship's belly could revolve completely around, but firing directly behind it would, quite evidently, go over like a led balloon.

An attack became imminent when one of the pursuer's Swarms revolved around to meet their target's rear hull. "You'll have to catch me first, mate!" Calamity taunted.

Just as the Swarm fired it's barrage of missiles, the Retribution's engines disgorged a turbo, catapulting it upward and out. The escorts were cleared easily, however their missiles were a tad harder to lose than Calamity had anticipated, leaving him with his past plan of heading toward the carrier. The cruiser's nose lifted to soar it higher, but what was subsequently brought into view nearly gave Calamity the urge to bring it to a full stop.

Directly in front of his vessel, a rough three hundred kilometers away, hung one of the other escorts. A holo-screen materialized to unveil another directly underneath him. Calamity scowled. He had not counted them out, but was by no means expecting either to assume the offensive, much less take part in a pursuit trap.

With his options narrowed to nothing, Calamity put a damper on the Retribution's speed and broke to the left. Shortly following, the Swarm missiles caught up with him and exploded onto the starboard side, listing the entire ship sharply to port. A klaxon's whine echoed through out the interior, indicating that the violent attack had hit home. "Son of a crack-whore!" Calamity hissed as the shield's reading dropped to nearly fifty percent

Capitalizing on the opportunity, one of the pirate escorts engaged a boost and begun to close the distance between themselves and the Retribution. At fifty kilometers, they opened fire. The mounted laser cannons powered briefly before releasing a cloud of red lasers, which lanced their target's port.

Calamity growled as the shields continued to drop, but was determined not to go down so easily. His fist slammed down on the 'Swarm' button as he hollered, "EAT THIS"  
The sleek cruiser erupted a Swarm attack of her own, which collided into the escort's side, causing it to swerve slightly. Just as the afflicted pirate vessel begun to pull out, it's opponent performed a completely unexpected maneuver. 

The Retribution rocketed upwards and pulled a near full yaw, bringing the Wasp mounted on top level with the escort beneath it. Before an evasive maneuver could even be planned, the bright blue particle beam smashed into the pirate vessel's hull, making short work of the shields before blasting through the armor. By the conclusion of the Wasp's attack, little was left of it's victim. Another Swarm discharged from the Retribution and finished it off.

"Two down, three to go..." Calamity huffed, glad to have gotten rid of his latest challenger. "And I still have a few tricks up my sleeve..." Either by subconscious planning, the intention of greater powers, or just plain dumb luck, his last skirmish had landed him in close proximity to the carrier. Easily weaving through the massive vessel's cannon-fire, the Retribution begun to bank around toward it's rear, but was stopped short when one of three remaining escorts jettisoned forward, flanking her port. As both vessels slowed to a halt, their neighboring positions brought the side-mounted cannons to bear on each other.

The Retribution was first to open fire. Mint-green plasma beams erupted from the mounts and lanced the escort's hull, gradually eating the shields away. Once the afflicted side was deemed 'critical', the pirate cruiser begun to return fire, catapulting a series of red bolts toward it's assailant. As the cruiser's shields continued to sustain damage, Calamity vacated his pilot's seat and ventured toward the belly, where the torpedo tubes were located. Two corridors and a flight of stairs later, he arrived at the destination. After surpassing a thick hatch-door, he went to work, hefting one of the explosive devices up, and shoving it into a nearby tube. "This'll give 'em one Helluva' scare..." The rogue sneered as he watched the last torpedo slide into it's tube.

The captain of a pursuing pirate vessel bore a smug expression upon his face as his eyes took in the contents of the most recent holo-screen. It had been a difficult battle, that was certain. To have brought down two of their own and pull maneuvers as he had seen, the pilot of their quarry had to have been very talented. Not only that, but the vessel itself was an impressive sight, armed to the teeth and capable of moving at nearly blinding speeds. But as it currently appeared, his escort's assistance wasn't necessary. For whatever reason, the sleek, unreflective white cruiser had come to a standstill and initiated a short-lived cannon-battle with the ship nearest to it. Just as quickly as the laser-fire begun, it stopped, and now it simply hung there in the void, allowing what little was left of it's shields to get thrashed. Thrashed  
The captain's eyebrow twitched in mild irritation when he noticed that the shields were almost completely depleted. He gazed toward his communications technician. "Get online with the idiot runnin' Leviathan and tell him to cool it with the lasers! We wanna' capture this ship, not reduce it to scrap-iron!" "Will do." The officer replied while donning his ear-pieces.

With that, he looked toward his tactical officer. "Do you have a reading on the head count in that ship? I wanna' know how much of a struggle we're gonna' get when we--" Something on the holo-screen caught the captain from the corner of his eye, causing him to fall silent.  
Blending in with the impending darkness around it, excruciating details of the small object that had discharged from the enemy vessel's belly were nearly impossible to make out, however a faint trail of exhaust contrasted with the blackness, and was almost enough of a shock to give the middle-aged skipper a heart attack. "Torpedo..." He muttered in an almost inaudible tone. "What?" The tactical officer asked, however he would not have time to receive an answer. Immediately thereafter, the object collided into the starboard side of the escort labeled "Leviathan". A massive explosion rocked the pirate vessel, slinging the captain to the floor.

For a brief five minutes, the inside of his ship was pure chaos. The power had disrupted, not only cutting all capabilities of movement and defense, but enveloping the interior into darkness. The captain lay still, afraid to attempt standing. The shocked and terrified shouts of his crew pierced his earshot in ways that, in that instant, he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. However long that may be. One he paid a particular attention to--the voice of his tactical officer, hollering redundantly, "Stay away from the glass!". Seemingly, the return of power, more namely lumination, caused the panic to, if not subside, die down considerably. Slowly, the captain lifted his head from the smooth tile floor, directly to the holo-screen which, as he assumed, had reappeared.

His eyes glued to the Leviathan, or at least, where it once was. Taking the escort's place was a miniature supernova. "St...status report..." He muttered weakly in the direction his tactical officer's booth. It would take a moment for an answer to come. "...Our shields are half depleted. We should be okay, but Leviathan was...annihilated "  
The captain's teeth bared. "I'm aware of that!" He growled while assuming a standing position. Once fully recovered, he stalked over to the booth. "What was that weapon?" He demanded. "It couldn't have been an ordinary torpedo! Not to have done that!" His finger extended toward the supernova on the screen. The officer scanned over the report before replying, "It was a 'Stingray'. Their small nukes that"  
"I know what they are!" The captain interrupted him in a venomous voice. "How many people are on that vessel?" He relented, clearly not wanting to answer. "HOW MANY?" The captain bellowed, causing the rest of the crew to fall silent. "...One."

The words had hit the skipper harder than he had anticipated, completely satiating his anger. Replacing it was cold, raw fear. "That...that...that can't be!" He stammered, snapping his head back in the direction of the holo-screen. "Where is he now?" "The ship hyper-jumped behind our carrier before impact." The officer replied to his superior's back. He made the dire mistake of adding, "This guy's good." In a millisecond, the captain was whirled completely around, cleared across the booth and directly in his face. "NO ONE ASKED FOR YOUR GODAMN'T OPINION!" He seethingly hollered, "THE MAN BEHIND THAT WHEEL IS NOT GOOD! HE'S A DAMN PUSSY USING A RIDICULOUSLY EQUIPPED MONSTER TO PICK US OFF! WHAT THE FU"  
"Captain!" The communications tech. called from behind him, causing him to spin on his heel. "What?" He hissed. "I've just received a transmission from the Widow-maker! They've engaged the enemy and have already been put on critical! Assistance is requested!" Again, the captain's cavalcade of lividity quickly vanquished. "...What?" He muttered in an almost defeated tone. "Critical? We didn't...even..." His lips curled as words failed him. It took little to no time for that utterly enraged, hate-blind persona to return. "Hyper-jump to Widow-maker's position. NOW!" He snarled.

The escort known to it's peers as 'Widow-maker' railed away as another Swarm attack slammed into it, shredding the hull. Calamity grinned, watching the carnage maximize. Whilst indulging in his enemy's upset, it had become clear that they had failed to detect, much less anticipate, his cruiser to posses a torpedo hatch. After easily weaving around a bout of return-fire, he zeroed in on the un-defended port side. "Y'know what they say, mate." He mused before depressing the Swarm button once more, "The prettiest flower in the garden is often the deadliest."

The last remaining pirate cruiser would arrive at the side of it's comrade just in time to see it explode into a ball of flames. The captain watched the holo-screen, allowing what it displayed to shackle his lungs only briefly. "Swarm him..." He commanded in a low, harsh voice. Despite being heard and obeyed, his mindset blew, "If he loves that damn thing so much, let him know exactly how it feels! I don't want you to stop firing till we're all out! 'Till his ship's nothing but a God Damn ball of light, like Leviathan! Swarm, SWARM, SWAAAAAAARM!!!" A slew of missiles erupted from the escort's belly-mount and rocketed toward the Retribution. In response, the cruiser propelled forward, allowing the horde of explosives pursuit, however to Calamity's near hysterical surprise, a holo-screen materialized, displaying the escort firing another hail of missiles.

While gaining leverage as to avoid the new threat, the rogue yelled in mock fear, "Head for the high hills! Ole' cap'n 'Perseverance' has lost his damn mind!"

"Captain..." The technical officer begun in a pleading voice, "He's just weaving and out-running every Swarm we're firing off! Staying here would be...would be..." He stammered and trailed, however the communications technician finished for him, "Suicide!". He slammed his hands against the surface of his booth and stood, clearly unafraid of his commander. "Captain, your frustration is understandable, but it's time we face facts!" The captain did not answer, however the expression upon his face emitted a necessary indication that he wasn't listening. The tech. relented slightly, but continued, "That ship's got two devastating weapons on it, some kind of ungodly propulsion, and we're not even sure if it's used everything it has! We're no match for it!" It was at this point that his superior begun to tremble violently.  
"Mutiny." He growled. "MUTINY ON MY SHIP!" His growl lapsed into a bellow as his hand darted for the holster at his waist.

Just as promptly as the blaster's barrel was leveled with the forehead of his subordinate, a foot slammed into the captain's wrist, not only causing him to drop the firearm, but stagger backward till he lost balance and tumbled over. The tactical officer pinned him to the ground whilst the technician seized the blaster and begun to search for something to bound him with. Others who were present watched in silent astonishment.

It would take less than ten minutes for the captain to be bound, deemed harmless, and for the crew, free of his rule, to have vacated the ship on the only two present escape vessels. Almost as if to add insult to injury, their tyrannical superior was left in such a way that he was directly facing the holo-screen, thus when the enemy cruiser pulled a yaw, as to line the Wasp up with his own, he was present and aware for every pain-staking second. The cannon charged briefly before releasing a brilliantly bright beam, which crashed into the hull. Klaxons that brayed throughout the brig combining with the explosions and several pre-recorded critical shield warnings slowly begun to deteriorate his neurosis. His last thoughts before the escort was destroyed were far from ordinary, and even more-so distant from coherent.

Calamity watched on a holo-screen of his own as the explosion begun to settle. With a broad grin beginning to form across his face, he switched the view to the carrier, which had hardly changed it's position. "No friends to help ya' now..." He mused as the Retribution slowly begun to drift toward the enemy vessel's air locks, easily weaving around it's laser-fire for the brief moment that the front-mounted cannons were bearing on her.

After closing the gap between the Retribution and the carrier's air locks, which were located near the large vessel's belly, to roughly a hundred kilometers, Calamity rose to his feet and started for a storage unit at the rear of his ship. To have had five medium class cruisers escorting it, there was undoubtedly something valuable onboard that ship--something that the Banshees wouldn't surrender without fighting to the bitter end. This meant an opposition every bit as fierce inside the carrier as it was outside.

..And ultimately that meant that he would have to be armed, and armored, to the teeth. If it was anything he had learned with past experience, it was this--one could 'never' be too careful when it came to Space Pirates. While some carried the tradition of being hectic, reprobate scavenges with a system of morals as high as their I.Q, others were known for being cruel, cunning and malicious. Doing battle with them nogalisticly reminded the former Space Marine of his life in the forty-second century.  
"My own time..." He muttered upon reaching his destination, a reflective pair of steel double doors. Upon depressing a button located on a neighboring panel, the doors swung inward, granting access to the room behind them.

Measuring a rough fifteen by ten feet, three of the four storage walls were occupied by moderately dust-caked white shelves, most of which yielded vast amounts of ranged artillery and ammunition cases. A suit of heavy tactical armor was incased in a glass tube, positioned at the corner of the only open wall. Former property of the UltraMarine regimen, it still possessed the gargantuan shoulder guards that, in Calamity's original time-frame, instantaneously labeled the wearer as part of either the Space or Chaos Marine army. A gold plated eagle brandished the chest-piece, signifying indefinite alliance with the UltraMarines, however, the suit's color had been changed, from deep blue to a near pearly white. In the rouge's mindset, this indicated that, though still a member of the regimen, in his current situation, his purpose for fighting was his own, and in the twentieth century, he was alone.

Though Calamity maintained the usual upright demeanor that was known to vex his enemies, he could not refrain from inwardly wondering if he would ever return to the forty second century.

-End chapter one-

Next chapter-  
All business, Calamity boards the Pirate Carrier and battles through it's defending forces, however towards the end, he is met with an utterly unexpected surprise. One that he will, by no means, appreciate.

Closing note Should you have made it this far, don't fret--Tenchi and company 'will' come into this fic in due time (the next chapter, depending on how long I decide to prolong it). As I write, I am attempting to study the relationship between them, so things will be more enjoyable, in character, believable, etc. 


	2. Banshee got back!

"Calamity!"

Chapter two- "Banshee got back!"

Fair Warning Moving on to actual gun and melee battles, it pretty well goes without saying that this chapter is going to contain scenes of graphic violence, and my usual penchant of using colorful/suggestive language.  
If you believe either of these things will offend you, do yourself a favor and don't read.

Disclaimer-  
The Asconian race is the property of Daniel Powell, sadly unlike Thomas Doscher, I was unable to receive permission of use, but regardless, I make no claims to it. A few enemies from the game, "Serious Sam-The final encounter" are going to be in this chapter, and likely future updates. They are the property of Global Star software, and again, I make no claims to, nor am I profiting off of, them. That being said, please don't sue me.

-Fic start- 

As soon as the Retribution's intentions to board became official on the pirate carrier, 'The one-armed scissor', proactive measures were initiated to ensure that whatever came to traipse through the air-locks would be greeted by a formidable welcoming party. The behemoth vessel's brig was plunged into an uneasy silence as those present watched the inbound white cruiser draw ever-closer to their own. Having personally observed the entire escort force drop like flies before it, an uneasy tension was uniformly felt. The captain, a tall, middle-aged man of severe features, was the only one whom did not allow it to openly show. After adjusting the front of his uniform which, in actuality, was a collection of black and dark purple robes that draped to the floor, he turned his head in the direction of his tactical officer, a dark Asconian. "Do you have a head-count on that ship yet, KirovauSs?" The lizard shook his head negatively before replying, "I think our systems have been...manipulated"  
His superior arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'manipulated'?" After tapping the screen, KirovauSs replied, "This thing says there's only one person on board."

Not losing his calm posterior, the captain gazed at the terminal on his subordinate's booth. "This equipment was seized from the Alonian military, correct?" He asked. "Yessir." Came a quick response. "And while Alonia is a back-water planet, it does have advanced technology, correct?" He refrained.  
"Yessir." "Taken that into effect, I don't believe that there's anything wrong, and if there is, I don't believe our little friend is the cause of it"  
The Asconian paused briefly before venturing, "So...you think that there really is"  
"Yes. One man on-board." KirovauSs shook his head. "That's absurd. How could a single man have possibly defeated our entire escort force?" To this, the captain turned and begun to walk away. As he did, he answered, "KirovauSs, it is my experience that nothing is impossible. One man can be a devastating force, should he apply himself. I am beginning to suspect that this is exactly what we're dealing with. Dispatch our second strike-squad to the air-locks. That should be a decent welcome-wagon." "Madness!" The tactical officer unsettled in his seat. "Captain Eos, I'm sure you're aware that two is our smallest strike-squad! There are only five mem"  
"I'm perfectly aware of their numbers, KirovauSs." Eos interrupted him. "...And I have my reasons for issuing such an order. Now, do as I say, like a good subordinate should." A clear scowl marked KirovauSs' features, but he complied without opposition.

-Airlocks-

A sharp hiss pierced the silence as the first air-lock door slid to the side, vanishing behind the wall it neighbored. After stepping across the threshold, Calamity reached the conclusion that now was a good time to perform an artillery check. First and foremost, his gaze shifted to his waist, which yielded two weapons. The first, a bolter pistol, the sidearm cousin of the standard, Marine-issue Bolter, which currently gripped tightly in the rouge's grasp--both were keep-sakes of his original time-frame. The other weapon that his waist possessed was a bright red, diamond-shaped blade that measured nearly five feet in length and carried with it an odd, crimson luminescence that glowered about it, better known as 'Photon energy'. Gained from a recently colonized planet that's locale was in a 'completely' separate galaxy, it was known to the natives as 'Kaladbolg'. A rare, powerful and sought-out melee weapon, it was Calamity that basked in the victory of acquiring it.  
The Kaladbolg had proved itself a worthy companion in the past, and there was the high hope that it would come through once more as it's owner approached the final barrier between himself, and the recesses of The one-armed scissor.

-The One-armed scissor-

Sargoth 'Lefty' Porth sometimes felt that he had the dumbest of luck. Born on the small planet of Jalelian, which closely neighbored Jurai, it almost seemed as though he was given no 'real' chance to win at the game of life from day one. Raised on a planet that's government had been thoroughly crippled, and the son of an infamous narcotics trafficker, circumstances seemed to more-or-less force him into a life of crime. Right up until turning twenty, he was small-time. Bank-heists, vehicle thefts, and an occasional statutory rape (as according to Jalelian's age of consent) assured that he would remain just that till he was eventually busted, however that all changed when a squad of Banshees decided to raid his hometown, and wound up recruiting him.

Even in this environment, Sargoth hardly found solace. Due to his being left-handed, the youthful Jalelianite was given the nick-name 'Lefty'. Where his peers were granted empowering aliases such as Hell-raiser, Obliterator, and Scavenger, his nickname left him open for immature quips such as, "So, do ya' jerk off with that hand, too?"

Presently, Sargoth would find that 'dumb luck' kicking in again when his strike-team was given the heads up that it was they who were assigned to be the first squad to engage the enemy. He hardly found it a coincidence when he and another misfortunate guard were voted to approach the airlocks, whilst the other three 'covered' them from the sanctity of stockpiled crates. It sometimes seemed ominously ironic that the very first room encountered after boarding the carrier was an octagonal cargo-hold. 

Lefty threw his fellow guard a hopeful glance. Wyvern, as he was known, leered, but agreeably pressed a hand against the airlock door's control panel, not letting the viewfinder on his weapon falter. Just as promptly as five inches were cleared, a bright red pulse of hot energy descended from the airlock at a blinding speed, sinking directly into Wyvern's face. A hissing, like butter thrown onto a heated pan, took the air as the tactical guard discarded his blaster rifle and stumbled backward, clawing at his face. More namely, the gaping hole that cratered most of his cheek. "AAAAAARHHG!" He screamed in agony before tripping over his own feet and meeting the ground. His struggle held strong for less than ten seconds after falling over. The sporadic movement gradually slowed to a dead halt, quite literally.

Sargoth's terrified gaze shifted from his murdered comrade, to the perpetrator, whom had yet to move from his location. He was every bit as terrifying as the escort-battle had indicated. For a regular humanoid, the man that stood before him was of massive proportions, excluding his heavy battle armor. Standing at a rough six foot seven, his face, the only feature visible, was broad and chiseled, tanned to a dark bronze. A decorative scar begun just underneath the left ear and seared across to his right temple, navigating over the nose and completely blinding his right eye. Crowning the top of his head was a crop of individually spiked, jet black hair that stood nearly three inches. The heavily armored monster's thick lips jerked back into a grin.

"Hullo there, mate!" He greeted in a nonchalant tone. "AAAAHHHHH!" Sargoth shrieked while raising his rifle. As promptly as this gambit was made, Calamity's hand darted to his waist and produced the Kaladbolg. In the moment that the pirate's finger brushed along the trigger, his wrist was violently seized. Freezing completely, he let the firearm fall to the floor. Rather than relent, his assailant jerked him forward and heaved his bright red blade down, easily lopping through the limb that had procured Sargoth his nick-name. Locked in a trance of terror and disbelief, he became silently dormant. Calamity arched an eyebrow as he presented the brutally severed hand to Sargoth's face, letting it dangle by the middle finger. "Want this back?" He asked, his grin only broadening. That broke his victim's paralysis. Screaming in a contortion of fear and pain that he had never before known, the amputated guard turned and started for the crates, however he would only grow a mere two feet away before the iron-clad hand of his attacker snapped forward and wrapped around his arm, stopping him short. 

Without a second thought, Calamity heaved his blade forward.  
Easily ripping through Sargoth's protective vest, the Kaladbolg entered between the shoulder blades and exited near the sternum. Nearly two feet of the lethal instrument exposed itself from the front before retreating. With a determined expression upon his face, Calamity jerked the photon-shrouded sword in reverse, achieving a full retrieval.

As Sargoth's eyes rolled into his head, his legs buckled and gave out. With blood cascading from his mouth, he slumped to his knees and soon thereafter crumpled to the floor.

Looking over the fallen bodies of his first victims, Calamity took careful notice of their equipment. Had the two men not been panny-waists, in his judgement, they likely would have posed a threat. Both were outfitted in medium-class, caution purple tactical armor and equipped with high-ended pulse rifles. Though practically antique to the former UltraMarine, that hardly excused them from being every bit as deadly his bolters, or the Kaladbolg. Kneeling to acquire a closer look, Calamity examined the prone form of Wyvern. Though his helmet was open-faced, the guard's eyes were veiled by a dark plastic visor, which bore the purple sun of the Banshees at the right end.

The rogue shook his head slowly after catching site of two frag grenades at his waist.  
"Boy, whatta' pain in the arse you guys woulda' been if only ya' weren't--" Calamity didn't receive the opportunity to complete his thought. His neglect in thoroughly checking the area after eliminating the immediate threats became all too apparent as two bolts of plasma collided into one of his shoulder-guards, leaving a uniform scorch mark behind as a momento. "Damn't!" He cursed while raising his bolter, railed slightly by the surprise attack.

"I just got this thing refurbed yesterday, ya' fuck-tart!" Calamity hollered before returning fire at nothing in particular. As quickly as his assailants made their move, they disappeared behind whatever cover they had been taking this entire time, and were nowhere in conventional sight.

For whatever reason, one of the guards, a man by the alias of Joker, decided to reply to his enemy's random front by popping out from one side of his crate and discharging a bout of laser-fire of his own. With this underway, the other two rose above their cover and joined in--all three firing in unison, but for some reason neglecting to aim for the head. Calamity's entire form listed in reverse as the squad's combined efforts acquired multiple contact points, but was far from falling. With his targets in sight, he swallowed his nerve, dropped to the floor and took aim on one of the three guards. Specifically, a guard commonly called Two-bit. With the barrage of laser fire safely avoided for the time being, he sparred an extra few seconds to place appropriate aim on the pirate's face before pulling the trigger.

A single bolt erupted from the barrel and met perfectly with the jaw of it's intended victim, blowing it and much of the area that yielded his nose away. Two-bit's arms flailed as he lost balance and landed back-first against the ground with a dull, but audible wunt, dying immediately thereafter. The death of their fellow space-pirate had not gone un-noticed to the last two squad members, but rather than throw caution to the wind, they seemed to assume the offensive with a more renewed passion. As one approached Calamity, the other completely cleared himself from his cover, as to gain a better view. In response, the rogue, still planted to the ground, retrieved the Kaladbolg from his waist and recovered to a crouching position. "Alright, mate. If it's up-close and personal ya' want..." He remarked as Joker drew closer, his rifle firing madly, and yet still failing to result a head-shot.

The plans of a counter attack were initiated earlier than anticipated when a plasma bolt sizzled past Calamity's head and collided into the wall behind him. Subsequently, the rogue lost his mindset and lunged forward, horizontally feigning his blade. Unprepared, the guard staggered in reverse as the photon sword seared across his stomach, cutting a large portion of his body armor away, but fortunately for him, not distributing any damage. Calamity did not allow his failure to slow the onslaught down. After crouching below a series of plasma blasts from the secondary enemy, he diagonally thrust his arm out, landing a likewise slash across the chest of his initial opponent. Expressing his pain through an audible holler, Joker staggered backward and hit the ground, his wound too great to persist in the fire fight.

As the victor fell back, he was abruptly jostled by another laser assault. Calamity's head snapped in the direction of the last remaining threat, whom cautiously stepped in reverse while firing. Sidestepping the second bout of gunfire, he extracted the bolter pistol from his waist and cleanly relieved it of three rounds. The first met with the guard's chest, it's follow-up fatally nailed him on the point of his chin, and the final hit home on the stomach, assisting to sling his lifeless form to the ground. Calamity bore a smug expression upon his face as he returned the sidearm to it's rightful place. "Well, that was an invigorating lil' warm up." He remarked, finally allowing his muscles to relax. The rogue's train of thought was snapped and he quickly tensed back up when a drawn out groan arose from the vicinity of the floor.

Whirling around, he was met by dead air. Or at least it would appear that way, till his gaze dropped, directly to the mortally wounded Joker. A hand clasped over his chest, the pirate squirmed and struggled, as if attempting to out-maneuver the impedance of death. Caught in mild interest, Calamity ventured toward him. "Well, well, well, I almost forgot 'bout you..." He mused while closing the distance. Joker's movements seemed to grow faster upon noticing this. "Pretty nasty gash ya' got yerself, there." Came a snide comment.  
"F...Fuck you." He shot back. "Awww, looks like somone's a little cranky after getting cut down..." A massive, white boot rose and positioned itself directly over his head. "Well, don't you worry 'bout that sliced chest one lil' bit, 'cause I intend to make you forget all about it..." A malicious grin broadened Calamity's features before he furiously stomped, crushing his victim's head underfoot. The torso jolted upon impact, and thereafter settled.

After cleaning the blood, brains and crushed combinations of metal and bone from the sole of his boot, Calamity scanned the room. "What kinda' genius designed the cargo hold to be right next to the airlock?" He queried to a phantom audience whilst approaching an accumulation of steel crates. "...'Cause I'd like to thank whoever did." Gripping both hands around the uppermost crate, the rogue slung his prize to the floor and busted the digital combination lock recessed on top.  
"Passcode accepted." A recording replied to the crate's assault, subsequently swinging one of it's sides outward.

Boring the facial expression of a child whom had just awoken on Christmas day, Calamity jammed a hand into the crate's contents and produced a bag, loaded nearly to the seam with a white, powder substance.  
"Eh?" The rogue muttered, his persona quickly fading. "What the bloody 'ell is this? Drugs?" After turning it over, black stenciling across the limpid surface reading, "Valkerie" was revealed.

Calamity scowled while plopping the bag back to it's predecessor location. "I'm one of the Emperor's finest!" He huffed, "I can't do anything with this crap!" His eyes shifted toward a sliding door at the right of room, neighboring the airlock. "They must be keeping the good stuff somewhere else..."

-Brig-

Captain Eos had watched the life signal of each member on the thirteenth strike squad vanish from the terminal screen one-by-one, silently astonished. The total elapsed time it took for one man to bring down five armed and armored tactical officers--seven minutes and thirty nine seconds.  
KirovauSs looked toward him. "Captain..." He begun in a hopeful tone, "There's still time. We can still pull a full evacuation and grab some of our more pertinent cargo before"  
"Before what, KirovauSs? Before this man destroys us?" "Precisely." The Asconian replied. "I have had an ominous notion from the second that ship came inbound for us, and so far everything that has happened is confirming it"  
"And just what it is it confirming? What is this 'notion' you've gained"  
A solemn, panicked expression flushed over the cold-blooded creature's eyes before it replied, "My notion...is that whatever boarded our ship is far from our understanding, and even more distant from our capabilities. If an evasive move is not made now, we will not receive the opportunity later."

Eos' eyes cut. "Deploy the first and third squads into the corridors." He promptly ordered, utterly disregarding KirovauSs' heart-felt plea. "WHAT?" The tactical officer bolted from his booth. "You're crazy! Those are our last strike teams, our only fighters! What will we do should they be defeated?!?" The captain rested a hand on his subordinate's arm. "Peace, KirovaSs." He stated calmly. The Asconian relaxed slightly, but maintained the same look in his eyes. "You speak of no knowledge that I am unaware, and no result that I have not considered." Casting his back to the lizard, Eos begun to venture toward the brig's exit. "...And just where are you going?" KirovauSs called after him. Without turning or, for that matter, even pausing, the skipper replied, "To the labs. There's something I need to observe"  
"And what am I supposed to do?" "Exactly as I told you, KirovauSs. Dispatch the remaining squads, and keep a close eye on their status." Before the Asconian could question or protest further, the out-going door slid to a full close, his commander disappearing behind it.

The brig was enveloped in a heavy, eerie silence after Eos vacated the premises. KirovauSs slumped into his seat, feeling his fate drawing closer by the second, and completely helpless to stop it. What few crew members occupied their booths did not dare to utter a word, much less act, operated by the assumption that the tactical officer was every bit as lost as they. Yes, things had promptly fallen apart on The One-armed scissor, and wasn't a difficult thing to deny. After nearly five minutes of the silence reigned, KirovauSs spoke in a drained tone, "You heard him. Someone, get in contact with the first and third squads and tell them to spread into the corridors." The operation was adopted with the most understandable of reluctance.

-Corridors of the One-armed scissor-

The narrow, brightly lit network of hallways that accounted for more than half of the pirate carrier's space were of a simple, but clean design. Plain, white walls that were under-lapped by series of heavy, dark pipes surrounded a reflective, light blue tile floor. Overhead, columns of fluorescent tubes vividly lit every detail. Despite being an astronomical step over the dirt-ridden, rust-colored vessels of the forty-second century, which were built for functionality and little else, Calamity hardly admired The One-armed scissor's interior.  
Truth be told, after ten solid minutes of navigating it's vast corridors, he had grown particularly sick of looking at it, and found himself wondering if this was little more than a trap designed for unwanted guests such as he. "First I was set up to ransack a drug-ridden cargo-hold and now this!" Calamity exclaimed half jokingly. "Pirate carrier's designer-2, Calamity-0"

A groan that was near to escape the rogue's lips upon reaching the fifth three-way intersection died quickly when a directory sign slid out from a slot in the floor where the tri-fecta of halls met.  
In a consistently scrolling digital text, it read, "Hall 1- Airlocks, Cargo hold #1, Hall 2- Brig, Armory, Cargo hold #2, Crew quarters, Hall 3- Laboratories, Launching bay." Where the second cargo hold located in hall two sounded more than desirable to drop by, the armory, brig and crew quarters that accompanied it were far from being rewarded with a similar view. Rather than allow his mind to be captivated by it, something else on the directory caught Calamity's curiosity, and required a double check to assure that what he read was correct. As his eyes scanned over the rolling words, he muttered to himself, "...What the bloody 'ell would Space pirates want with a laboratory"  
That question would inevitably drag him in the destination's direction.

-Elsewhere within the corridors-

A bareheaded squad-leader took the frontline of his fifteen-man team, a clear look of consternation creasing his face. Personally, he hadn't heard much about this new threat, but it was more than easy for him to assume that it was something formidable, should it have been capable of breaching The One armed scissor to this extent, and in such a case, being a leader was the crappiest job imaginable. With one hand gripped inordinately tight around the hilt of a tazer rod, and the other resting on a waist-strung pistol holster, his eyes darted around behind the infrared lens of night-vision goggles, till noticing that one of the eye-pieces were digging uncomfortably into his face. Grumbling about the improper sizes of issue equipment, the squad leader ordered a halt to the trailing company and momentarily dropped his personal guard to adjust the offending eyewear.

It seemed a daft irony that Calamity had chosen this exact moment to round the corner of the corridor, bringing him face-to-face with the leader. The two remained stationary, locked in a surprise-stricken staring contest for some time, and likely would have persisted, had a voice from the back of the strike squad not called out, "Frag him!"

Disengaging his eyes from Calamity's, the squad leader swung the tazer rod over his head and brought it down, achieving a direct blow to the top of the skull. "OOWWWWWWW!" The afflicted hollered while falling to his knees. The vast amount of voltage that coursed through his body failed in disabling him, and seemed to cause his attacker to double his efforts. After resting a hand on the giant shoulder guard of his opponent, the leader repeated the over-handed strike, laying the broadside of his electrical weapon into various points on Calamity's head. With each successful hit, the rogue either grunted, or used near comical choice phrases.

After what must have been the seventh strike connected with the side of his head, Calamity decided he had endured enough. Just before the next coming swing could establish contact, the hand of it's target shot out and seized the tazer by it's tip. With a powerful jerk in reverse, the melee weapon was sent flying into the corridor's break, nearly taking it's user with it. Easily restraining the leader by his collar bone, the ex-space marine smirked.

"How'd ya' get such a strong right-arm, mate?" He joked before hefting his former assailant into the air.

Dangling the misfortunate pirate by his clavicle with only one arm, Calamity produced his bolter pistol, discharged a single round into the abdomen of his target, then flung him to the side.  
An audible SPLAT shortly followed, indicating a full, unpleasant contact with the wall.

More mesmerized than afraid, the strike squad gazed at the prone form of their leader, a mere shadow of his former self. Crumpled against the section where the wall met the floor, a wide hole dominated most of his midsection, venting intestines across the floor. A smathering of blood and crushed brains smeared the point of his head-first, high velocity collision, and slowly ran down it's once clean, white surface.

Not allowing the startling counter-attack to falter, Calamity quipped over the silence, "Lobotomies are goin' cheap today!" The remaining tactical squad wasted no time for the comical remark to sink in, and opened fire just as promptly.

A barrage of the, by now, familiar red bolts disgorged from the base of the front line and assumed a rough spray pattern for their destination. Rather than attempt to evade, Calamity dipped low and seized the deceased squad leader by his shoulders, then recovered. This feat was accomplished in just enough time for the laser-fire to sink into the back of a target of another kind.

The leader's corpse, which had yet to lapse into Rigor Mortis, flailed and jostled about as the numerous beams burnt into his shoulders, but failed to be completely impaled. In comparison with Calamity's bolter, the kevlar vest suited across his torso was doing a far better job of absorbing the squad's blasts, and enabled the rogue that it protected to take his time whilst venturing for the corridor's turn. A single frag grenade was liberated from the human shield's belt before he was flung to the floor like yesterday's garbage.

Bolting around the bend the moment that his crude cover was discarded, Calamity pressed himself against the wall and watched another descending cloud of lasers pelt his former location, leaving numerous scorch marks behind as ugly momentos. "Hold it! Cease fire, cease fire!" A voice called from the neighboring corridor. In effect, the gunfire dulled from a torrent of crimson beams, to light runs of waves, and eventually a full halt.

"Alright, tough guy!" The speaker continued, "We know you're right behind this hall, and we're giving you a choice. Drop your weapons and come out, hands behind head, or make us come after you, either way, you're screwed!" Unfazed and even less amused, Calamity retorted, "And what makes ya' so sure you can handle me, mate?" "...Because..." The voice replied, "We have reinforcements bringing up your rear, and they'll be here any minute. By that time you'll be out-manned at least thirty to one, and no place to run!"

A brief silence reigned before there came a response, "Well, then...I guess that leaves me with my only trump-card..." "Oh, really, and what would that be?" In acknowledgement to the question, not to mention that squad's unannounced advance, the recently acquired frag grenade bounced into the center of the corridor. Before a warning could be called, the hand-held explosive erupted, violently rattling the immediate area and crippling more than half of the opposition's populous.

With the onslaught in full swing, Calamity bore his bolter rifle with one hand, gripped the Kaladbolg in the other, and ran around the corner.

The hall entered was left in bad shape in the wake of his grenade assault. Select pieces of the human anatomy littered the ground and had gone as far as to splatter against the walls. Most of the structuring was missing sizeable chunks, and the once intact pipes lay busted open at particular areas, spewing hot steam. With no time to gather a head-count, Calamity rushed forward and proceeded to hack his blade into the shoulder of the nearest sentry, easily ripping halfway through his chest. The lethal tool would be retrieved in just enough to time to be once more thrust into the chest of another approaching guard, impaling his heart.

As the rogue fell back to plan a different form of attack, one of the few remaining pirates produced a mint green vibroblade from his boot. "Knew this thing would come in handy one o' these days!" He huffed before assuming the offensive, violently feigning for his target's head. Calamity let him come and stepped backward, rebounding every strike with the armor on his forearms.  
After realizing that his redundant move was failing, the guard raised the blade over his head in preparation for a downward-cleave. Easily spotting the various open points, Calamity twisted his blade-baring arm around and thrust it forward, landing a jab directly into the throat.  
Rather than pull out, the victor spun on his heel, proceeding to slice through more than half of the neck.

"Blast him, blast him!" One of the three remaining guards yelled in a panic. Subsequently, the deep red pulses returned with a vengeance, aimed directly for the head. Dropping into a crouch to avoid the fatal laser assaults, Calamity dashed forward with all the might his body could muster, and collided into the middle guard, running him down with all the force of an eighteen-wheeler. Like a gentle sea breeze, blood sprayed onto his face and right shoulder guard (the predominant point of impact), only proving to present a minor annoyance. Spinning around with the bolter armed, Calamity proceeded to cut the two remaining guards down, riddling them with high-powered plasma blasts.

Despite the threats consisting of the second encountered assault squad being defeated, the prospect of peace hardly reigned. Almost as promptly as the final sentry hit the floor, the third troop of pirates arrived.

Oblivious to the fact that this was indeed the last remaining obstacle, an agitated and adrenaline-induced Calamity brandished both Bolters in each hand and begun to fire them in unison, adding to the effect by hollering over the deafening blasts, "BRING IT ON, YA' PANZIES"  
Various head shots sunk into the afflicted, collapsing multiple guards in sheer instances. In thirty seconds, half the number was a done deal, and no counter shots were fired. Two minutes later, the entire third strike squad was little more than a historical piece of space-pirate folklore.

Calamity stood roughly twenty yards away, huffing the tension out. "Now..." He rasped between breaths, "If I could get back to what I was doing..."

-Research Laboratories-

Captain Eos gazed into the giant bio-tanks of the east wing laboratory, admiring the site of his newest 'loot'. Detained within the container's glass confines was a menacing creature of severe proportions. Standing at a towering height of fifteen feet, a large, pulsating brain took position as the top-most feature, and was incorporated into a mechanical base that possessed a massive laser cannon on either side. Stemming from the bottom of the base was a pair of predominantly hydraulic-powered 'goat legs', which accounted for more than half of the height.

Eos smirked, enjoying the very thought of this half-biological, half- mechanical creature's prospects. "Soon, my children..." He spoke in a voice that seemed to equal the anticipation of his words, "Soon, you will be unleashed upon the known universe, and the Galactic Union will fall before us. The fame, the fortune, the power, it will all be ou--" "Dead...They're all dead..." The familiar voice of KirovauSs shuddered from behind him. Not seeing or hearing the Asconian enter, Eos whirled around in surprise. His expression quickly melted away upon identifying the intruder. "So, KirovauSs, you made "  
The tactical officer did not directly reply, but continued on his own aimless rant, "The intruder killed them all...and now he's coming for us...and I..." He trailed briefly before picking back up, "....and I know why this happened..."

The captain arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Please, endorse me..." KirovauSs' eyes cut. "You want him. You condemned all of our guards simply to gauge his power, and now that it's in the open, you're going to attempt recruiting him..." A thick, heavy silence arose in wake of the truth, occupied by a fierce stare-down. The accusing eyes of KirovauSs bore into the cold, careless gaze of his superior. All to abruptly, Eos put his hands together in a mild round of clapping. "Very, very good, KirovauSs. I would have been slightly...disappointed in you, should you have not pieced it together by now." "You disgust me." Came a prompt reply. "This action possess no honor whatsoever"  
Eos gave a nod of his head. "Indeed, you're right. The man with honor never achieved the goal life intended for him. But you, and your entire race is too ignorantly blind by it's sanctimonious pride to understand that in times of war and conquest, morals do not exist"  
"You know nothing of the ethics of war if you're actually going to go through with asking this monster to join you!" KirovauSs barked a retort. "And whatever the end result is, I want no part of it." He whirled around and started for the exit, but was stopped short when Eos called after him, "Perhaps you are simply viewing this situation from the wrong perspective..."

The snide response died upon the Asconian's lips after turning, revealing the captain with a pistol clutched in his hand. "Perhaps you should see things from a new plane." He continued before discharging a single round into the face of his former officer. The blast achieved a direct hit between the eyes, slinging the lizard onto his back. Mouth agape, his limbs jumped several times before settling.

Feeling that words were not necessary, Eos branded a smirk upon his face before turning back toward the tank. His admiration, however, would not last long. Just as his mind begun to reflect over how he would explain to the more prominent figures of the Banshees of his being the sole survivor of a massive GP raid, the second interruption of the day arrived, assuming the form of a shocked, "WOAH"  
Knowing perfectly well who it was, Eos did not turn, but greeted Calamity regardless, "Welcome, friend..."

Stepping over KirovauSs' bleeding form, the rogue replied, "Tell me, do ya' blow holes in your underling's heads often, or did this guy accidentally order anchovies instead of pineapples?". The power-mad captain snickered before answering, "No, he was being insubordinate. Termination was the only logical option. I would never kill one of my own without justifiable cause, Calamity." Calamity raised an eyebrow at hearing his name. "You know me"  
"I've studied you with an unwavering interest. The stories certainly weren't disappointing..." Came a quick reply. "There's one thing that I never did learn, however...Just how long have you been misplaced from your own time?" Calamity's lips carved into his familiar grin. "Wow..." He responded. "When you 'study' something, ya' don't drag your feet...Ten years, by Human standards"  
"Fascinating. Do you know why you are here?" "Well...at first, it was in the hope of liberating some new weaponry, but, ah..." His gaze shifted from the captain, to the large tank behind him. More specifically, it's contents. "I get the vibe that somewhere along the line, that goal changed without my knowing it...Mind telling me what that is behind ya', mate?"

Captain Eos' head turned in the direction of the large beast behind him. "That, Calamity, is the evolution of the Banshee assault squad." He replied, his voice swollen with pride, "A form of technology that we adopted from another galaxy. You see, the Banshees are far more than just an aimless crime syndicate that rapes and pillages. Our board of leaders consist of military-minded, tactical geniuses, whose prerogative are set for the fate of the Galactic Union. The creature you see behind me is the future of our army, and alongside it, Calamity, I would be honored for you to be a part of it...Join us"  
His hand extended toward the rogue, whom eyed it suspiciously. After several intense seconds, he replied, "Sorry, mate, but it just wouldn't work out between us. My heart belongs to another." Eos' eyes widened as his hand fell, awestruck by the rejection.

"Besides..." Calamity continued whilst gesturing a hand toward KirovauSs, "If this is how ya' treat your followers, I don't think the idea of a career in the esteemed Banshee army would be all that glorious..." "Fool!" Eos exclaimed, "You belong to another?!? Do you mean to tell me that after all this time, you still consider yourself a number of that ridiculous, self-righteous religion-driven army?!?" A fuse was quickly blown. With faster reflexes than the captain imagined, Calamity reached forward and seized him by the collar of his uniform, then hefted him into the air. "Ya' gonna' wish ya' never said that, mate!" He declared solemnly.  
"No, Calamity, it is you that will wish you never denied me"  
Eos argued before waving a hand to the side, subsequently causing a holoscreen to materialize.  
Taking place within the limpid window was a display of the airlock, to which The Retribution was attached. "In five minutes a lock-down of that particular wing will be initiated, sealing every in and out-coming passage. Following that, it will self-detonate, destroying your precious ship and stranding you here!" Calamity fell silent as he gazed at the screen, only able to produce a brief, "Oh...damn...." in response. "Of course..." the captain begun to venture, "You could arrive back at the point of entry in a relatively short window of time, if you started on it right...now!"

His captor leered. "Another day." He concluded before dropping Eos and starting for the exit.

-End chapter 2-

Next Chapter- The explosion that ensues severely damages The Retribution and forces Calamity to perform an emergency landing on Earth. More specifically, the Masaki household. Still angered by his rejection, Captain Eos orders a small army of Banshee soldiers and a handful of his new 'toys' to eradicate not only Calamity, but whomever he happens to be boarding with in the hopes of sending a message to the Galactic Union. 


End file.
